


Oh So Pretty

by oh_johnny



Category: The Beatles
Genre: Friendship, Gen, early beatles
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-26
Updated: 2016-03-26
Packaged: 2018-05-29 07:06:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 710
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6364282
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/oh_johnny/pseuds/oh_johnny
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Set the night before John and Paul go to Paris to celebrate John's 21st birthday in 1961. The two couples go on a double date to see West Side Story.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Oh So Pretty

**Author's Note:**

> This is a repost of an old fic which first appeared in the lj comm johnheartpaul

Paul doubled over in laughter as John pranced down the street ahead of him, Cynthia's hat on his head, singing in a falsetto voice.

“You may feel pretty, mate,” he gasped out, “but you sure don't look it.”

“Ah, but am I witty?”

“Oh, certainly. And gay.”

“Give us a kiss, then,” said John, in the same falsetto, puckering up his lips and sliding up next to Paul.

“Gerroff!” said Paul, pushing John away.

“Tease!” pouted John, before turning away and flouncing off down the street.

It was their last night in town before they headed off to Spain in the morning, on a fortnight's holiday financed by John's birthday money. They'd decided to take the girls out for a film and a stop round the Cavern after. Cynthia and Dot had unanimously voted for West Side Story, rejecting completely John's suggestion of Psycho, which was making the rounds again.

“Who wants to be terrified when they go out for an evening?” Dot had protested.

“Ah, love, I'll protect you,” Paul had offered.

“You!” she'd scoffed, “Fat lot of good you'll do me, off to Spain.”

“But, Dot,” he'd wheedled, “I'm always good to you.”

“Huh. No better than you should be, you.”

And that had ended that, much to the boys' disgust as they'd had hopes of copping a feel during the scary bits.

Still, the film had been entertaining, if not in the way the producers had meant it to be. The entire audience, made up as it was of Liverpudlians who knew a thing or two about gangs, had burst into laughter when the gangs on the screen had started to dance their way down the street, and John had leaned over to Paul and whispered an obscene comment in his ear during “Something's Coming” which had led to Paul spraying his mouthful of Coke over himself, but Paul had admired the phrasing of some of the songs and the girls had cuddled into their dates in a quite gratifying manner during the sad final scenes.

Now they were off for a quick stop at the Cavern to see who was playing. They were given one of the banquette seats around the side, the four of them sat in a row, John and Paul next to each other as always, the girls on the outside so they could go and dance. They never danced, neither John nor Paul, Paul maintaining he preferred to listen to the music, and John maintaining that only poofters danced. When Cyn had asked him what that meant about the audience for The Beatles, which included blokes who got up and danced, he'd just smiled smugly and maintained they were all, male and female, just there to get a closer look at his ass. 

“Otherwise,” he'd added, “they would just sit and enjoy the music like sensible folk.”

With the girls up dancing, John and Paul sat slumped in companionship, pint glasses in front of them, dissecting the music of the film. Of course, it wasn't rock and roll so it was all crap, but they'd noticed some key changes that Paul wanted to try out, as well as some interesting rhythms. 

This was the best time, for both of them, when it was just the two of them and they were discussing music. They agreed on so many things, felt the same way, sometimes it seemed a miracle that they'd found each other. They were trying to remember the words to “Tonight”, the most challenging of the songs vocally they felt, when the girls returned, wanting to go home. They'd left, but walked separately from the girls, too bound up in their own world of music to even register that the romantic portion of the evening seemed to be over.

When they reached the crossroads where they would part ways, each to walk their own girl home, they'd made a big show of turning back to each other and singing “Somewhere” as they moved farther and farther apart, laughing as the girls tugged them away.

When they could no longer see each other, both turned and slung an arm around their girlfriends, content that in the morning they would be off on a grand adventure together, able to indulge their friendship uninterrupted.


End file.
